


#32 - My Turn

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge [12]
Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Violence, plenty of implied violence, well described anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: When Claudius orders the execution of all scientists to cover up his crimes, Hamlet hides Horatio with a group of pirates who are loyal to him. When Claudius' men catch the pirates, Hamlet races to find Horatio before they do.





	#32 - My Turn

**Author's Note:**

> Two Hamratio fics in this entire challenge and they manage to fall next to each other in the rankings. Who'd have thought?

"Tonight will be a night of celebration!" Claudius roared from the throne, startling a few of the petitioners. Servants had long ago become accustomed to his explosions. Hamlet, having just entered the throne room, raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Our brilliant general has taken out those pesky pirates that have been robbing our ports! We are now pirate free, and two ships stronger."

"We must sweep them, first, to ensure there are no more ruffians hiding like the cowards they are," the general reminded him.

"Tomorrow's work," Claudius waved him off, "Tonight we party."

Hamlet froze. The pirates had been under _his_ control. Many had been his almost-friends. And Horatio- _oh God, Horatio_. Horatio had been in hiding aboard the flagship, fleeing Claudius' order to execute all scientists, no doubt to cover his tracks. Hamlet had arranged for him to work as a medic there. Was he dead? _Oh God._ Had he killed him? Bile was rising in his throat, and he had to leave or he'd be sick. He couldn't even escape the palace to check until nightfall. At least that would not be difficult, with everyone drinking themselves into a stupor in the great hall. And Hamlet knew the security of the airship docks like the back of his hand. Some of them were loyal to him, after all.

"And all the pirates are dead?"

"Well, many were captured. They will no doubt be executed, but this way we may make an example of them."

Captured? Then they'd be in the prison. Hamlet wasted no time in vanishing from the hall and making his way to the dungeons. Sure enough, some forty men (and women, not that Claudius' guards were bright enough to realize it) were packed into the five little cells the palace contained.

"Prince Hamlet?" one of them asked when they caught sight of him.

"Cuthbert?" he identified the first mate, "What news?"

"They killed the Captain," Cuthbert replied, voice tight with contained emotion, "and we lost at least six gunmen. Most of the damage was to storage, but we think the kitchens caught fire and all the workers were lost. We number forty-six, all scheduled to meet with the firing squad, and mostly navigators and fighters. The rest are unknown, although we presume most are dead or in hiding."

"Horatio?"

"Unknown, sir. The last we saw of him and his assistants, they were carrying one of the gunmen into the bowels of the ship for surgery. His leg had just been blown off."

"So there's a chance he may be alive?"

"The medic's office wasn't hit, as far as I could see, but there's no guarantee the soldiers didn't search it."

"Thank you, Captain."

Cuthbert stared at him as if he hadn't quite registered his promotion until Hamlet had recognized it.

"Yessir."

~ ~ ~

"We'll keep the docks clear, my lord," Marcellus asserted, bowing his respect.

"Thank you. I shall remember this when I recover my throne."

"My thanks, lord."

Hamlet strode aboard the airship, casting a wary glance at the still-smoking holes throughout it. If Claudius thought he could use these ships, he'd need to spend a good deal of time repairing them. Hamlet hoped he would be enraged by the idea that he couldn't have them instantly and order them scrapped. That way Hamlet could get his hands on them and recover some of his forces for his return.

His first destination was, naturally, the small space that had been converted into a medical office. When he reached it, he looked around, searching for some sign that Horatio might be alright.

"Horatio?" he tried, hoping against hope the man was safe and within earshot.

He jumped at a faint moan that came from the supply cabinet. Hurrying over, he flung the door open to find Horatio collapsed inside, a blood soaked bandage barely pressed against his side.

"Horatio!"

Horatio's eyes fluttered open, flooded with confusion, "Hamlet?"

"What happened to you?" he exclaimed, more to have something to say than out of curiosity. It was obvious what had happened to him: he'd been shot. Using the strength of twenty years of sword-fighting, Hamlet lifted him out of the closet and onto the table (ignoring the dark brown stains of dried blood).

"Where do you keep the bandages?"

"Th... bo.." Horatio hissed in pain, unable to form proper words. Instead he limply lifted the hand that wasn't holding his wound to point at a box on the ground. Hamlet threw it open, revealing only two bandages left. He grabbed one and replaced the soaked-through one, able to apply more force than Horatio had, searching for some way to secure it.

"How... you..?" Horatio asked, trying to communicate more with looks than words.

"How did I find you?"

He nodded and Hamlet shrugged, "It's past nightfall and Claudius ordered the search suspended until after they had time to celebrate."

Horatio gave a weak laugh, aware of Hamlet's opinion of Claudius' lifestyle.

"Please try not to laugh. Your gut clenches and you bleed more."

"But... endor... phins," Horatio wheezed. Hamlet raised his eyebrows, silently questioning his lover's state of mind.

"Happinesss..." he amended, trailing the end of the word.

"Ah. I suppose you mean that these endorphins relieve pain?"

Horatio nodded, glad of the yes-or-no question. Hamlet reached forward and laid his free hand on the side of Horatio's face, thumb tracing his cheekbone, "I would rather you be in pain for now and live."

"Is it... worth it?"

Hamlet's eyes snapped up to meet his, "Don't you dare. Not after everything you did for me. You have no idea how close I came to actually doing it, and you're the only - _the only_ reason I didn't. You refused to let me leave this world when I couldn't see a reason for living so don't think for one fucking second that I will let you leave me now. Whatever your problem is, you are going to damn well let me take care of it for you."

Horatio's mouth twitched into a smile.

"What?" Hamlet asked, recognizing the expression for the patronizing look it was.

" _Princes_ ," Horatio breathed, in a tone that suggested he thought Hamlet was being ridiculous.

Ignoring that, Hamlet pressed on, "So what is the problem?"

"Well... half of... my friends... are... dead," Horatio began, "plus... I never... get to... see... you... anymore."

"Oh my God," Hamlet rolled his eyes, internally beaming, "You know there's nothing I can do about that until I take back what's rightfully mine. And I can't do that until I have a stronger force. Not to mention my support was dealt a massive blow today. I have no choice."

"Liar..."

"What?"

"For..." Horatio began, cut off by a coughing fit this time. Hamlet held the bandage more securely to the wound, alarmed by how quickly the red spot on it was growing.

"For what?" he prodded when the coughing subsided.

"Fortinbras."

Hamlet stared at him. Fortinbras ruled over another of the great floating cities, one that was growing rapidly as Claudius' conservative changes were noticed. Not too long ago, he had offered Hamlet his support, in return for a tithe. Hamlet had laughed in his face.

"You can't be serious. Agreeing to his terms would subjugate Elsinore to him. Such a thing would not stand! Can you imagine what it would do to the people?"

"Yes..." Horatio glared at him, "Signif... icantly less... than it would... do to... your pride."

Hamlet couldn't contain a flinch. Horatio had always been able to see straight through him, the only one to ever call him out.

"Save... the crew. Then go... talk to him. Please..."

Hamlet closed his eyes, unable to look at Horatio's pleading, broken form without breaking down in guilt at things he was only partially responsible for.

"Alright. For you, I can do that."

"Thank you."

Hamlet felt Horatio's hand reach up and rest atop his own.

"Now... I think... I'm strong en... ough to talk you... through... extract... ing the bullet... and stitching the... wound."

The prince stared at him, eyes widening, "Wait, what?"

"You didn't think... a bandage would... solve everything... did you?"


End file.
